I solemnly swear that I will complete this story. And that I am up to no good…

The war had been over for a month now, and though Hermione, Harry and Ron had come out of it relatively unscathed, the dynamics of wizard society had completely changed. Law and order was slowly being restored – just like the ancient walls of their Alma mater. With the new school term due to start in a few months, Hermione had some tough decisions to make. She had realized that her passion lay in teaching, and her Newts, taken at the ministry of magic a week prior, would hopefully help her to achieve her goal.

Her results were due to arrive any minute now, and to say that she was nervous would have been the understatement of the century. Grimmauld Place's library was her current refuge. She clutched a well-worn copy of Hogwarts, A History and pretended to leaf through the section on competing schools while pacing the well-worn green carpet. Harry and Ron were nervous too, but they sat calmly on the other end of the library devouring an assortment of baked goods prepared by Kreacher, who was delighted to have people to take care of again.

A noise at the wide open window made them jump, and they all made a mad dash for the three tawny owls perched on the sill. Hermione held her envelope with trembling hands while the boys ripped theirs open. Two simultaneous whoops of joy from the boys encouraged her somewhat, and she opened hers slowly. She gasped. All O's – not a single Exceeds Expectations or any other symbol; Hermione looked over at the boys only to see them smiling back at her cautiously.

"Well?" said Ron impatiently, gesturing for her to hand him her letter. She did so, and heard a shocked whistle of breath as he exhaled. "Holy Hell, Hermione… Wow, just… wow." Harry looked over Ron's shoulder.

"Huh," he said, shrugging. "I could have told you that."

Hermione received several invitations to teach after her results were published in the Daily Prophet alongside several other Hogwarts alumni. She began to feel pressure to choose one of the schools, but she had no idea which school would suite her better. Hogwarts was great – but they were offering her a potions apprenticeship. She was good at potions, she knew, but she would never have the finesse and passion that Professor Snape had yearned to instill in his students. Her favorite subject was Charms, and she had received offers from three schools offering Charms apprenticeships. Beauxbatons, Salem Witches Academy, and the African People's Academy of Magic, had all sent letters as soon as her results became public.

In the end, her choice was simple. She wanted to travel – see the world. The further she could get away from home, the better – so a month later she was ready to leave for the African People's Academy of Magic. She had a vague idea of where it was situated, but though she was no slouch at geography, she could not pinpoint its exact location. All the clues pointed to South Africa – a country about which she knew little, except for the horrifying practice of apartheid, which was thankfully a thing of the past.

Harry and Ron helped her pack and shrink all of her things into her beaded bag, which she still carried everywhere with her – just in case. The boys organized a surprise going-away party for her at the Burrow the day before she was due to leave, and most of the former Gryffindors were in attendance. Even though she surrounded by friends and people she loved, she still couldn't wait to leave.

In the morning, Harry and Ron escorted her to the international portkey station in the Ministry of Magic and stood with her while she waited to be transported across the globe. Hermione was dressed to impress, in emerald green robes with beaded trim at the hem line. Five minutes before she was due to leave, Harry and Ron said goodbye, and left reluctantly to be at job interviews for the Auror department. Hermione sat down on a bench designated as her departure point. Two minutes later, a tall brunette woman wearing sunglasses and stylish navy blue robes approached her, holding an old toothbrush in her hand.

"Is this the departure point for South Africa?" the woman inquired, sitting down next to her cautiously. She had a British accent, but Hermione did not immediately recognize her.

"Yes, is that my portkey?" Hermione looked over the woman, who seemed to be her age.

"Our portkey, actually," she said, removing her sunglasses and meeting Hermione's gaze evenly. Suddenly, Hermione recognized her as Pansy Parkinson – but she had changed considerably from the Pansy that Hermione remembered from sixth year. She had the same wide mouth and grey eyes, but a horrible scar ran from the bridge of her nose across her right cheek, marring her once flawless features. Hermione didn't stare, but she wondered how Pansy had gotten such a scar.

"Oh," said Hermione cautiously, and then asked: "Are you going to the Academy?" Pansy nodded, and held out the tooth brush for Hermione to grasp. As they held onto the unlikely object, both women thought that the following year ought to be very interesting indeed. Without warning, the familiar and unpleasant feeling of a hook behind their navels pulled them both out of sight in London, and back into existence in a smaller international portkey station halfway across the globe.

Neither of them knew where to go next, but that problem was solved when a tall dark-skinned woman approached them. She was wearing witches robes in bright,multicolored material draped attractively around her shoulders. "Sawubona!" she said excitedly, and then switched to flat-accented South African English. "Are you the lovely ladies from England?" Hermione and Pansy nodded, greeting her politely.

"My name is Princess Ndlovu, and I am the Potions mistress at the African People's Academy of Magic," she said proudly, as she shook each of their hands in turn.

"Wow," said Pansy, "I wasn't aware that South Africa has a monarchy."

The South African laughed easily, leading them down a staircase and into the elaborately decorated lobby. "No, we do not. My name is Princess, although I am not a princess. It is a common name here," she smiled at them, and seeing the embarrassment on Pansy's face, reassured her that it was an easy mistake for a foreigner to make.

Princess led them to a wide archway set into the wall of the lobby, her heels clacking smartly against the beige tiles. She stopped and turned to face Pansy and Hermione, her smiling face glowing with excitement. "We just had this installed last week – and I haven't had a chance to try it yet," she whispered excitedly.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, eying the runes inscribed on the edge of the arch. She recognized several pertaining to transport, distance, and learning.

"It is similar to a portkey. It uses runic magic to take us directly to the Academy," she said, pulling three beaded bracelets out of her pocket. As she handed one each to Hermione and Pansy, the tiny ceramic beads glowed blue. "Put them on your wrists, and then we will walk through the arch."

Hermione and Pansy did as she asked, and they glanced at the other briefly. Pansy was obviously not too happy about being a guinea-pig, and Hermione was harboring the same doubts. "Don't look so worried, ladies," Princess said as she turned toward the archway, beyond which a faint glimmer of light could be seen, as though at the end of a long tunnel. "This system has been extensively tested. After all, why on Earth would we want to lose our two newest staff members directly after they have been hired?" That being said, she stepped through the archway, and disappeared in a flash of blue light.

Hermione and Pansy looked at each other.

"Go ahead," said Pansy.

"Sure," said Hermione, giggling a little bit. "Typical Slytherin scaredy-cat."

"Hey! I resent that," said Pansy. "Anyway, there's nothing wrong with self-preservation. Nobody ever survived without it."

"True," said Hermione, as she stepped forward. She glanced back over her shoulder; a strand of her unruly hair came free of her ponytail and hung in front of her eyes. She raised her eyebrows. "But with it, nobody ever had any fun." She took a giant step forward, through the archway.

Pansy didn't panic, but she certainly felt distressed at the loss of Hermione's familiar, albeit annoying presence. Sucking in a huge gulp of air, she too stepped forward into the darkness.